


Emerald Wreathed in Crimson

by LiterateGamer



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Action & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/F, Fighting, Grief/Mourning, Retelling, Swordfighting, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:47:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22904947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiterateGamer/pseuds/LiterateGamer
Summary: A story of an ambitious Emperor who stood against the might of the combined world, and the woman who helped her achieve that dream.Aka: An extensive rewrite and reimagining of a lot of scenes in Crimson Flower. Could potentially turn into a wide reimagining of the entire Part and the post-war drama.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg & My Unit | Byleth, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 3
Kudos: 66





	Emerald Wreathed in Crimson

The skies were dark that day. Tinged with black clouds that rose high above the smoldering remains of walls and barricades, air that vibrated with the crackle of Thunder. 

The roars and battle cries of opposing armies echoed like the rolling waves of the sea, clashing together inside the walls of the Garreg Mach monastery. It was here that the Black Eagle Strike Force met the combined might of the Knights of Seiros, at the very gates of that place the students had grown to call home.

But today it was nothing more than another fort to conquer. 

That was the mindset that every young man and woman under Byleth’s direct command had instilled upon themselves. Yet they had not done so without a heavy heart, and the heaviest of them all was the Professor herself. 

She had turned her back against the Knights of Seiros, who had taken her in with open arms and given her purpose in life. That had offered answers to questions she’d long thought lost to time. Who had helped her find who she was, and what she was after in life.

It just so happened to be that who she was stood before the gates to the monastery, sword in hand and students in tow. 

She was a warrior, a leader and a teacher. But more than anything, she was in love. In love with every single one of her students, who she had come to see as far more than just that. They were her family, her kin. Her purpose.

And the brightest of all, was Edelgard.

Edelgard von Hresvelg. Brand new Emperor, and a woman who’s will had taken Byleth by storm. 

For her, she’d march into hell again and again. All to see her dream of an equal world come into fruition. One where every man would deem their own future and worth, without the artificial demands of Crests. 

Without the Church. 

Byleth had turned against Archbishop Rhea. The same Rhea that showed her compassion and love. The one she’d turned to for advice and guidance and viewed as the mother she’d never had.

But it was too late to turn back. Too late to stand down!

And Byleth knew that very well. 

Onwards, she rushed in the throes of battle. War cries and clashing steel echoed behind her, a reminder that she had little time. Her students were holding off the enemy forces in multiple locations, no doubt giving their all for this short window of opportunity. Through thick and thin, they’d fought past the city’s main defenses. Forcing Rhea’s closest allies to retreat, it had all come into a climax at the very entrance to Garreg Mach, where the advancing forces of the Black Eagle Strike Force had found themselves at an impasse. 

And it was such that Byleth had offered to advance, while Edelgard and Hubert led the march against Catherine and Cyryl, keeping them at bay as their commander and professor rushed to confront their enemy herself.

And so she flew, rushing past soldiers and deflecting blows in a mad race towards her target. And it was then that Rhea’s personal guard stepped in. A cavalier and a mage, aiming towards her.

With frightening speed, the red hot glow of Byleth’s blade struck down against the shaft of the cavalier’s lance, who deftly deflected the blow so as to avoid damage. The horse rose, and the professor pulled back. Beneath her feet, Byleth felt the air vibrate, she pushed herself further just in time for the powerful smite of lightning to strike down where she had once stood.

Quickly, she discerned the situation. The mage stood behind the rider, who kept his lance at his side, ready to strike at her once more were she to come closer. 

She took a deep breath, her eyes flaring as she straightened her posture. Her blade rose into guard, her eyes steeled towards the two before her. 

The cavalier was the first to break the flow, his form rushing forward with lance in tow. A roar from his lips and a jab from his lance followed. Byleth moved forward, choosing to charge into the man rather than evade, preventing the mage from striking. Her blade struck against his lance, and she let out a shout of her own. Fury within her sprung to life, and she jumped up right as the man reeled back for another strike.

With a powerful slash, she jumped onto his horse and quickly sprung upwards into the sky as the man gave out a strangled cry. As she came down, she swung once more. Like a whip, her blade crackled open, shearing mercilessly towards the mage that had stood behind the cavalier.

As she landed, two distinct thuds accompanied her. Behind her, the cavalier crashed with a metallic ring. In front of her, the mage’s figure lay split in two.

Her breath short, she stared into the eyes of Lady Rhea, who held her sword with a deathly grip. Within the emerald eyes of the archbishop, she saw naught but hatred.

Byleth swung her blade to her side, the Relic clicking into form with the crack of a whip. The Professor spoke, her words powerful yet backed by the distinct hesitance of sadness.

“Lady Rhea, step down from your position. Let the slaughter end.”

The woman’s lips pursed, and Byleth felt her rage.

“You… After all you’ve done, you dare ask me to forgive you?” Rhea spat out her words like venom.

“Please… I don’t want to fight you.” Byleth spoke softly.

“Then you shouldn’t have gone against me.” Rhea’s voice broke. “In the end, you were just another failure. A mistake that I have to correct.”

“Is that how you always thought of me? An experiment?!” Something began to grow inside Byleth. An anger born from betrayal, bursting through the well in her heart. 

Rhea’s eyes were cold and unforgiving. Yet a singular tear streamed down her features, before they hardened into that familiar face of hatred.

“I thought of you my salvation. One I would forever love, forever protect and cherish. But you have turned your blade not only against me, but the goddess herself. I will never forgive you, you traitor! You… you worthless piece of garbage… I will punish you myself!” 

Byleth’s heart grew heavy. But as the archbishop readied her blade, so did she. Rhea had spoken her mind, and inside hers Byleth knew it had been truth.

A truth that she would live in, forevermore. 

Without a word, Byleth rushed forward, her blade clashing against Rhea’s. Their battle had begun.

\---

The sapphire eyes of the great Thunder Catherine looked down into the figure of Edelgard von Hresvelg, former student turned traitorous Emperor. And in those blue pools, there was nothing but scorn and disgust.

Something that Edelgard despised.

“Impressive that you could brainwash these students against her divine self, Edelgard.” Catherine said, her brow furrowing further as she pressed her glowing blade against the crude form of the legendary weapon Amyr. 

“I did nothing but show them the truth behind your lies, Knight of Seiros.” Edelgard shot back, lavender eyes steeled with determination. With a quick strike, she kicked against the plates on Catherine’s stomach, driving the two apart. 

The blonde-haired woman held onto herself for a moment, before spitting to the side and readying her blade once more. The hero’s relic, Thunderbrand, glowed with sparkling colors. Its figure began to crackle, and the great Thunder Catherine aimed towards her recently excommunicated student.

“Whatever lies you have told them, all of you have gone far enough! And it is my holy duty as a Knight to smite you heathens down!”

Edelgard growled beneath her breath, before pushing forward, axe held high.

“You dare excuse your actions as righteous! Mark my words, I will bring you down for the fate of Fódlan and its people, Catherine!”

With a heavy strike, Edelgard smashed her axe down towards Catherine. The woman moved to side deftly, the ground trembling beneath her as Edelgard brought the mighty Amyr down upon her. Quickly, she rose her hand to strike against the Flame Emperor, yet she was stopped by an unseen force.

An impact that shook her to the core, launching her a couple of meters back and causing her chest to tighten with pain. A mire had grown into her armor, black and purple that spread across her body with agonizing intensity.

Looking beyond Edelgard, she saw the perpetrator. His black hair covering one of his cold lime eyes, his face scrunched in contempt. He smiled slightly, a cold smile that brought chills to most’s spine. 

Hubert had his hands raised slightly, a magical circle glowing in front of them. His voice rang out, cold and raspy as usual.

“Lady Edelgard, now!”

Catherine spun in panic, her muscles aching and her energy sapping away as she brought her blade up to face her first opponent. But it was too late. In front of her, she saw the risen figure of the Flame Emperor, that imposing axe held high above her head. 

She grit her teeth as the blow struck past her guard and against her center, sending her reeling back against the stairs of the monastery. Blood spilled from her mouth, and a hand reached towards the fresh wound on her torso. Her eyes half-lidded, she looked at her two assailants with a scowl.

"Do your best, brats." She growled, her eyes glowing in the contrast that only flames could provide.

Hubert’s hands began to glow with the dark flames of magic, lighting his eyes up with a sinister glow. Edelgard approached.

Catherine’s scowl turned into a smirk.

Within a second, she swung her right arm with inhuman speed. Thunderbrand drew a streak in front of her, crackling red lightning that shone with blinding fervor.

The air vibrated, and Hubert’s eyes widened.

With a swift kick, the mage was thrown away, landing with a thud against the soft yet harsh batches of exposed soil and unkempt grass close by. Hubert let out a strained yelp and reached a hand towards the figure of Catherine, now engulfed in blinding red light. In front of him, Edelgard stood, the guilty party of his sudden launch. 

She held her axe in front of her, standing tall even as the earth rumbled and the impact of lightning struck against her figure. Engulfed in energy, she could barely hold Amyr in front of her own body. Her muscles ached and tensed, the pain of a thousand flames engulfing her all at once. And yet, she stood. Locking her knees in place, she took the brunt of Catherine’s attack without flinching. For if she did, her advisor and dear friend would receive the brunt of the smite.

Her eyes, lavender that stared into Catherine’s in the midst of the light. 

The two women screamed at each other, two titans squaring off in the middle of a storm storm.

The light faded away, and Edelgard fell to one knee. Hubert rushed to her side, his hands glowing with emerald light.

“Your Majesty!” His cry was desperate, even as their enemy looked towards them with a smug grin.

A sudden crash in front of them, raising dust to block their vision. Edelgard began to stand, her fatigue momentarily replenished by her companion whose hands began to flicker once more.

The distinct whines of a wyvern in the fog of dust in front of them. Hubert let loose a spell, a dark ball of energy that burst into contact with what was in front of them, immediately dispelling their block of vision.

What they saw was the stairs of the monastery, tainted red with the blood of felled knights and wounded heroes. But Catherine was nowhere to be found.

Edelgard looked upwards, just in time to see the wyvern that carried her by its claws, ridden by a young man of dark hair. 

“She was buying time.” She spoke, her voice beset with respect at the realization.

“Tricky bastards, the lot of them.” Hubert responded, a sigh of exasperation at their escape. “They will prove a nuisance in the future, I’m sure.”

“What will be does not matter now. We must get to the professor, quickly!”

“As you command, your Majesty.”

\---

How long had they been fighting now? To Byleth, it felt like hours.

Byleth’s muscles ached, her hands steadfast against the heavy vibrations at her palms.

The blades clashed, again and again. How many times?    
  
Rhea’s sword had been dented. Chips of it flung away by the might of the Sword of the Creator. The two had been constantly at the offensive, unrelenting strings of blows deftly avoided or deflected. 

Again, the blades struck. Byleth stared into the eyes of the great Archbishop, set on her goal of ending this battle here and now.

Rhea closed the distance, pushing forward with her blade. Her strength matched Byleth’s, maybe even surpassed it. 

Byleth saw a shine from her hands, and quickly pulled back as the holy light of Nosferatu pulsed around Rhea. With a swipe, her sword unchained and cracked towards her enemy. Rhea swiftly moved her blade to guard the chain, the blade-whip catching against the very tip.   
  


Byleth pulled on it, a quick thrust towards her own body that caused Rhea’s steel to shatter into a thousand fragments. From the divine emissary, a cry of frustration could be heard.

Byleth reeled her blade back into form, and rushed towards her opponent.

She rose her blade to meet Rhea, but as she swung down, the woman moved swiftly to the side. And before she could swing again, she felt the concussive force of a fist landing against her stomach.

Breath failed Byleth, and the Sword of the Creator clattered against the ground. Rhea’s voice echoed in her ears.

“I will not let you win!” 

It was desperate. Ravenous. The whisper of a woman sunken into mad rage.

Byleth attempted to pull back, to create some distance even while breath failed to enter her lungs. But Rhea did not relent, pushing forward and striking into her traitor once more.

But this time, Byleth did not feel the contact of a fist against her stomach. Rather, she felt the searing pain of a knife pushing past her abdomen.

And then, the world stopped moving. Pain that shot through her senses, awakening her and pulling her into greater heights than before. The hands of time moved, and she knew now what she had to do. 

In a flash, Rhea was against her no more. Rather, she stood paces ahead of her, the fading light of Nosferatu beneath her feet.

Byleth’s blade was in her hands, and newfound knowledge in her mind. The woman charged.

Rhea lowered her stance to avoid the downward swing, but no such thing greeted her. Instead, a quick strike of the pommel against her temple sent the taller of the two against the ground. In pain, she clutched onto her skull, blood trickling down her porcelain features.

“How dare you!?” She screamed. But as she looked up, she was met only with a blade.

The slash was wide, a spray of blood from Rhea’s torso. 

The woman pulled back, shrieking in agony.

Behind her, Byleth could hear the footsteps of newcomers. Her sword aimed at Rhea, she looked towards them and smiled weakly.

Edelgard smiled back. But her features became stern soon enough. With a commanding voice, she demanded:

“Rhea! As Emperor of the Adrestian Empire, I, Edelgard von Hresvelg, command you to stand down! For crimes against the people of Fódlan, you shall be stripped of your title and power! Your army has been defeated, your allies routed and fled. Stand down, or face death by ourhand!”

Rhea looked towards them, blood trickling down her lips, her chest. Pools of red that stained the pristine white gowns she wore.

“I will… not allow you… To trample upon her name…!”

Byleth’s eyes grew dark with sadness. A sadness that trounced even her unbeating heart. 

“Rhea… It’s over. Don’t resist, please.”

Rhea smiled. A cold, dark smile.

“It will never be over… Not as long as I… Breathe!”

Suddenly, a bright light burst from the woman. The earth trembled and shattered beneath them, and a deafening roar broke across the skies. Lightning surged, the winds howled! 

And within the smoke, the light, a figure had emerged. Monstrous and gigantic, it looked down upon Byleth with emerald eyes of hate. 

A dragon, white in color and larger than the gates of the monastery itself. Its wings spread out, its claws smashing against the brick floors and its mouth shining with energy.

A deep voice from its throat, echoing across the land.

“YOU WILL NOT BE FORGIVEN!”

Hubert’s voice rang behind Byleth, followed closely by a desperate cry from Edelgard.

“Professor, take cover!”

“Professor!”

Byleth lifted her blade. Dread began to fill her.

This hadn’t happened before. This wasn’t supposed to go down like this!

Everything flashed white.

“Professor, look out!”

Edelgard’s voice echoed across Byleth’s mind. But she could not tell where it came from, nor where it was heading.

“The castle is crumbling, your Majesty! We must escape!” 

“No! I can’t leave her!”

“Lady Edelgard, we must go. Now!”

  
  


Were they leaving her?

Was history going to repeat itself?

She remembered… and yet, it felt as if she’d forgotten. Pain surged through her, yet she could not see its wounds. She could not feel them anymore.

Where was she? Deep within this unending void, she could not see anything.

She clawed upwards, attempting to reach an exit. She could not leave them. Not now. She could not leave her!

_ Not again. _

That voice within her. It echoed. 

This had happened before, had it not? Then, why had she forgotten? Why could she not remember?

Images flashed across her mind. Images of dark eyes, of ashen hair stained with blood. Of a malformed hand, streaked in the dark rays of magic and technology. It reached out to her, looking for salvation.

For forgiveness.

Words echoed across her mind. 

_ “I wish you could’ve walked with me… my teacher…” _

Through the void, something grasped at her. A familiar voice, once thought lost. 

“Have you any clue how long you’ve slept?”

“So… this?”

“You must wake up. This is no time to rest. I can’t keep babying you around forever!”

“I… I don’t want to leave you…”

A giggle. Soft and melancholic.

“You mustn’t leave her, either. It was nice, talking to you again. Now go.”

Something pulled at her. The sensation of water, drifting across her skin.

\---

The skies were blue. Pelted with white and fluffy clouds that swerved in differing shapes and sizes.

Birds and wyverns flew across the sky, high above the trees. The air was slightly chilly, with a breeze that flowed from the mountains. Close by, she could hear the chirping of forest life; Closer still, footsteps that crunched down on dead leaves from months past. 

Byleth’s eyes looked up to the skies as she floated down the river. Her body unresponsive, she felt a sense of peace. One accompanied, rather paradoxically, by a growing sense of urgency.

A voice brought her out of it. That of a man, who called out with worry in his tone.

“Ma’am? Are you ok?”

She felt firm and gentle hands grab onto her sides, the wading waters a sharp contrast to the tranquility of before. Slowly, she was pulled out of the riverbank where she had floated previously, her body placed upon soft ground.

She blinked, drapes of emerald hair falling upon her brow. She saw the face of a young farmer, his features rather handsome for a commoner. He offered a hand, his brows furrowed with worry for her wellbeing.

_ ‘Sweet of him.’ _

She felt empty. Even as she slowly began to raise her hand. Even as he clasped it firmly and brought her to her feet.

She waddled for a bit, stumbled slightly as she remembered how to use her legs. Her clothes were in tatters, her chest plate torn and the shirt below shredded with a diagonal swipe. Her cloak in tatters, stockings ruined and gauntlets dented. As she grasped onto bits and pieces of her now ruined armor, she had a sudden realization.

The man waited patiently, but quickly spoke when he saw her acclimate.

“Are you alright, miss? What were you doing, floating down the river? What’s your name?”

Byleth looked at him, and then, she looked around herself. She was close to a ruined town. One that had been swept by war in recent memories.

She spoke.

“Where am I?”

His face scrunched up, and he idly scratched the scruffy inklings of a beard.

“Where are ya? Oh, that’s not good to hear, if you don’t know where you are. You’re right outside Garreg Mach monastery. In an odd spot, too.”

“Garreg Mach…?”   
  
She looked behind her. Searched the skies for a great tower. 

She did not see such a thing. Rather, she saw the ruins of an ancient fort, high above the hills.

Garreg Mach had been destroyed. Or at the very least, part of it had. A pang of sadness filled her heart, yet she looked back towards the man.

“What year is it?” She asked, suddenly curious. Her companion had mentioned a long period of time had passed. 

“You don’t remember the year?! You sure you didn’t smack your head or somethin’? It’s the Ethereal Moon, 1185. Today’s the millenium festival, matter ‘o fact. Or well, it would’ve been, had the Church of Seiros not been driven back. Now the Empire’s occupying what’s left of the monastery.”

Panic struck her. Five years?! She’d been gone five years?

She turned to Garreg Mach.

“Hey, you sure you’re ok?”   
  
“I have to go. My students are waiting for me.” 

She did not hesitate. Even as the puzzled man muttered something about delusions.

It had been five long years. The monastery was now in Imperial occupation, or so the man had said.

Which meant she’d have to go to the highest tower. If she was still alive, she’d be up there, looking over them all.

No… Not if. She  _ was  _ alive. And she’d been alone, all this time.

Without doubt, she paced forward, trying to think of a way to sneak past the guards and into the highest peak. 

\---

The many halls, corridors, patios and commons of the Officers Academy had changed quite a bit in the past few years; From what used to be a lively, soul-driven place full of youthful aspiration and faithful devotion, into a fortress that keenly prepared itself for war. 

Or maybe, it had just revealed its true colors. What it had always represented. The stranglehold at the center of Fódlan, standing high and mighty above any mortal that set their eyes upon it.

At the very least, that’s what Edelgard saw this place as. A place of chains and shackles, masquerading itself as one of freedom and possible liberation. 

But now, that’s exactly what it was. No longer was it a symbolic prison of culture and indoctrination. Now, it was the homestead of the Adrestian Empire’s invasion, a shining beacon of what the great empire could accomplish!

And this filled Edelgard’s heart with joy, as she watched the many encampments of dutiful men and women under her command. 

And yet, her heart sank. She had not come up here to admire the view from up above. No… She’d come here to grieve.

“Five years to the day… Today would’ve been the millenium festival, had things stayed the same.”

She’d momentarily abandoned her duties in training, so desperate for a moment of respite. One that she felt she’d not had in years. 

Five long years had she fought with tooth and nail for her dream of a united Fódlan. And for five long years she had witnessed foe and friend fall at her feet. At times, she cursed herself; Cursed the imperfect hands that she possessed, wishing so dearly that she could find some inkling of divine strength within her to bring an end to this bloody war. But she could not do it. 

Try as she might, Edelgard was not strong enough to shift the tides of battle.

And now, she stood at a precipice. A stalemate that had been going on for years. A war of attrition between three fronts. Eastwards, the Leicester Alliance remained mostly ambivalent of their actions, refusing to engage in open combat while simultaneously giving out precious resources to her enemies in the North. In a way, the Master Tactician’s schemes worked perfectly against them. For they lacked the much needed extra resources, while simultaneously stifling their possible routes of access to the North.

Claude truly was a man to be respected, even if at times Edelgard wished she had taken the chance to punch him in their stay at the monastery.

But he was not their end goal. While the occupation and dissolution of the Leicester Alliance was an inescapable facet of her plans of unification (and the overall dissolution of aiding powers of the Church), the real target hid behind a much larger foe. 

One led by the might of the Tempest King; Dimitri of House Blyddiad. 

And of dangerous foes, he was at the top of the list. Whereas Claude was said to have a plan up his sleeve for every situation, Dimitri was known to barrel through any threat against him. An invincible king, who painted the battlefield red with the blood of his enemies. 

And he was the one protecting the church. No surprise, coming from a Holy Kingdom.

Edelgard tightened her fist, her brows furrowing.

Memories of happier times came to her, now painted in the ill-light of war. Dimitri had been a close friend, once upon a time.

But not anymore.

Her heart sunk once more. And she looked up to the skies, with a heavy sigh and a longing gaze.

“I wish I could’ve saved you…” She muttered, to no one but herself. A gentle reminder of her failures. 

As she looked up towards the skies, something brought her out of the well of her thoughts. 

A noise. Footsteps that echoed up the stairs behind her.

Instantly, she turned; Her hand darted to the hilt of her blade, and she drew its steel in a clean motion. The tip aimed towards the entrance to this highest peak, her lavender eyes narrowing with suspicion and her voice booming.

“Halt! Who goes there!” 

It could not be Hubert, for he was away on a diplomatic mission for the rest of the day. As for the rest of the Black Eagle Strike Force, they were all busy with their own assignments, and anyone else would not dare disturb her. Not to mention, those were not footsteps she recognized.

They came closer and closer, and slowly did this mysterious figure emerge into the room.

And Edelgard’s blade fell to the ground without ceremony. Her hand went to her open mouth, her eyes wide in shock.

“It can’t be… Professor?!”

In front of her, one she thought she had failed stood. Her emerald hair shone with the stray rays of the sun that beamed from the window, her features dirty yet unchanged. Her armor was broken and damaged, in the same places where she had seen her struck five years ago.

Her eyes glowed with that same beautiful ferocity, even as her brows furrowed and her lips formed into a sad smile.

“Hello, Edelgard…” She spoke, her words soft as could be.

Byleth saw her student before her. And she could feel her chest tighten. 

Edelgard had grown so much.

Her eyes were as fierce as ever, sharp and full of wit, yet hiding a deep sadness underneath. Her ashen hair no longer let loose, now tightly bound in buns. Atop her head, a horned and golden crown rest. 

She was dressed in heavy armor, tinged blood red and decorated with white and gold linings.

Her beautifully pale face looked so tired. 

Edelgard approached, step after step, each one slower than the last. Her eyes wide open, her mouth still agape in a tiny little O. Tentatively, she reached out to her professor. 

Byleth reached back, and the moment their hands touched, Edelgard knew it was her.

“I… I searched everywhere. I sent search parties every day for so many months, checked beneath every single stone! Where have you been?! Why did you leave us?!”

Her hands had parted, back towards her chest. She held them tightly, the red gauntlets creaking lightly with the strain of inhuman strength. 

Byleth looked to the side. Her mind wandered, looking for a possible explanation. It came to her, from deep within her heart, and she spoke.

“I was dead, Edelgard…”

Edelgard’s brow furrowed. A red flush streaked across her pale features, and she pointed towards Byleth with an accusatory finger.

“You’re joking?! At a time like this?!”

Byleth looked aside. Guilt swelled within her. 

“I…”

“Do you have any idea how long I waited for you?! How guilty I felt? How broken my heart was?! It’s been five years, Professor! Five long years…”

The woman’s eyes were wet. Had Byleth ever seen her cry? She could not recall a time.

Edelgard stepped closer. Byleth could barely look into her eyes.

A red gauntlet reached up to Byleth’s features, cupping her cheek with gentle sincerity.

Byleth looked into Edelgard’s eyes. Tears were flowing down those lavender pools, staining her face with a wet glow. 

Byleth reached up, fingers tracing those strong hands.

“I’m sorry, Edelgard… I’m so sorry…”

Edelgard moved forward, slowly encroaching the professor. Her hands grasped onto her cheeks, pressing fingers against the skin gently. 

Byleth did not dare breathe, staring into the crying eyes of her dearest student.

Edelgard’s arms circled past her jaw, down against her neck, before pulling herself tightly into Byleth.

Byleth’s arms went stiff by her sides, and she felt the bitter moisture of tears stain her shoulder.

“I missed you so much… All this time without you, I felt lost and without guidance… But I have stood my ground. My desires and resolve have not faltered one bit.”

She jerked slightly, holding tighter onto the woman she’d lost. 

“You once told me that you’d follow me, no matter what… My path has brought me to nothing but bloodshed, and sometimes I truly do feel as if I am the villain of this story. To them, I am sure I am… But do you still feel the same, my teacher?”

She pulled back, looking into Byleth’s eyes. Byleth smiled. Her hands creeped around Edelgard, and quickly pulled her back into herself in a longing embrace.

“I do, Edelgard. I’ll walk beside you, even if the entire world is against us.”

Edelgard did not respond. Rather, she held herself tighter against her teacher, allowing herself to bask in the feeling of someone else.

For the first time in five long years, Edelgard knew peace.

And for that, Edelgard was truly grateful.


End file.
